Virtual American Gothic - Third Season 
Episode Seven

Blessed Art Thou

By Rosebuck

NOT TO BE ARCHIVED TO A WEB PAGE WITHOUT 
THE AUTHOR'S PRIOR CONSENT.

**********************************************

Trinity hunched in the dark of the night beneath the terror of a deformed 
sky.  Lightning and thunder overpowered the heavens in a virtuoso 
competition.  Clouds formed and reformed, tumbling mountains, 
cascading valleys, a liquid landscape above the land.

Ben Healy shivered.  He had never seen a night like this one, and he'd 
seen some pretty strange weather in his day.  Trinity Weather, the 
townsfolk called it.  But this storm went way beyond even Trinity Weather.  
He shuffled a couple more papers on his desk, conceding to himself that 
he wasn't getting any work done.  He had the typical paper work for a week 
at the Sheriff's Department stacked in front of him; all the annoyances 
Lucas Buck never bothered with.  He rubbed his eyes.  He wasn't tired, 
he'd drunk too much coffee for that.  He was jittery, fretful, and it had 
everything to do with the crack of thunder above his head and the flash 
of lightning that put the fluorescents to shame.  

"Ever thought of workin' when you're on duty, Ben?"  

Lucas' voice came right in his ear.  Ben jumped.  "C'mon, Lucas, how 
can you expect anyone to work on a night like tonight?"  Ben looked 
over his shoulder, resenting the smirk he caught on Buck's face.  He 
shifted in his chair.  "It's the devil's night."

Lucas chuckled, and cuffed the back of his deputy's head.  "Don't you 
know, Ben, that bad weather is an 'act of God'?  Ask any insurance 
salesman."

Lucas sauntered back into his office, whistling "Singing in the Rain."

*************************

"Holy Mary, Mother of God....Oh, Dear God, I think I better go straight 
to You this time.  You know I have sinned, and I have continued to sin, 
and tomorrow I will sin again,"  Father Patrick Malley  admitted to the 
crucifix above his head.  He knelt before the altar of Trinity's only Catholic 
church, the church entrusted to his care since the death of Father Tilden 
more than a year ago.  The storm outside made no difference to a man 
whose internal tempest had been brewing for months, and was now 
coming to a head.  His tone changed from abject apology to anger,  
"Have You even noticed?  Are You aware of  your loyal followers?  I 
face temptation every day, and do You care?" 

Patrick turned his face up towards the ceiling of the church.  "Someone 
else wants to own my soul.  Does that matter to You?"  His voice rose in 
pitch.  "Are You even there?!"

****************************

"Again!"  Dr. Matt Crower shouted to Nurse Rita standing across from 
him.  She placed the paddles on the chest of the little girl lying immobile 
on the gurney between them.  The shock passing through the girl's body 
made it jump in reaction.  The line on the monitor beside Matt's head, 
however, remained motionless. 

"Again!"
*****************************

Patrick lifted his hands away from his face.  There had been no answer 
to his inquisition.  He hadn't expected one, and that was part of his 
problem.  Even so, the priest couldn't resist one last look of entreaty to 
the figure above him.  His Christ on the tree, at once, both majestic 
and pathetic.  Pain so clearly etched on His face, weakness illustrated 
by the gaunt body, the stretched out limbs, the cruel gash in His side, 
red blood welling up within it, a sticky trail running down a slender leg.  
With shock, Patrick witnessed the blood run the length of the icon's foot, 
pool, and drip to the carpet below.

********************************

The thunder built to a crescendo, shaking the hospital to its foundation.  
A bolt of lightning whipped out of the dark clouds, connecting with a 
window on the second floor.  The window shuddered.  A crack formed.

********************************

Matt took a deep breath.  The body of the girl lay in a final stillness.  He 
checked his watch, and with a catch in his voice, he told Rita,  "Time of 
death at ten, thirty-two."

Beside his head, a monitor beeped.  With a mixture of disbelief and hope, 
he turned and watched the flat line move upward in a steady, familiar 
rhythm.  The girl's eyes blinked open.  With smiling gratitude, Matt 
declared,  "Scratch that, Nurse.  She's back with us." 

*********************************

 The crack had grown, stretching over the entire pane.  Serene and 
tender, the image of the Madonna was etched in the glass of the hospital 
window.

********************************

The bright sunshine of the morning dispelled the memory of the night 
before.  Larry Priven inhaled the smell of a newly washed day.  It made 
his heart lift, even though he knew he had no cause.  He unlocked the door 
to the homeless shelter.  "Morning, Sam,"  he called to his assistant, who 
had been on duty during the night.

Sam got up from behind the desk in the office down the hall.  He peeked 
his head out the door. "Mornin', Larry."

Larry met him at the door.  "Any excitement?"

"Quiet as a church."  Sam put away the magazine he'd been reading.  

"I made that pick up last night.  It wasn't even half of what they donated 
last year."  He shook his head.  "If this keeps up, A Safe Haven isn't going 
to be much of a refuge on Christmas.  Donations are at a record low.  I 
can't believe how few canned goods we've got."  He sighed.  "I can't see 
how we're going to get by without a drive for Christmas." He removed his 
coat.

"I can't recall the last time we had a Thanksgiving drive that didn't cover 
Christmas, too,"  Sam noted.

"Eight years ago, maybe more.  It's a sorry state of affairs.  Another drive 
will be less successful than the first, bound to be, and we've got winter 
ahead of us."  He headed out the door, towards the kitchen, Sam following.  
The floors were well-scrubbed, the stainless steel counters gleamed.  

Larry paused and turned toward Sam, instinctively lowering his voice.  
"I've got to wonder if I did the right thing.  Maybe I should have taken 
Buck's offer to help." 

"Sell your soul for a can of peas?  You ask me, you did the right thing."  

Larry hung his coat on a peg on the wall.  He unlocked the door to the
walk-in pantry.  It swung open on its own.  The shelves were stacked 
with rows and rows of canned and dry goods.  Filled to the brim.  Sam's 
jaw dropped.

"It's a miracle!"  Larry whispered in awe.

***************************

"It hasn't even been planted, yet, Caleb.  It's too cold, right now.  Miss 
Coombs said we would after Christmas, in January."  Boone followed at 
Caleb's heels, crossing the schoolyard to the edge of the playing field.  
Over by the trees, under the shelter of their arms, a small section of earth 
had been tilled.  

"I don't care, I just want to see.  I wish Miss Coombs was here to 
see it."

"Well, it sure was nice of Miss Madison to go ahead and have the garden, 
just like Miss Coombs had planned.  I guess we'll be covering it up with 
plastic, today."  Boone grinned.  "Flowers for Valentine's.  I can hardly 
wait."

Several feet from the class garden, they both stopped dead in their tracks.  
The little plot of land was filled with bright green plants, buds beginning to 
form and burst open.

"I don't think you're gonna need to wait, Boone.  Looks like it's gonna be 
flowers for Christmas."

*************************

Matt looked down, checking the name on the chart.  Marie Celare.  
"Good morning, Marie," he said in his soft voice.  "How are you feeling?  
You gave us quite a scare."

"Just fine, Doctor,"  Marie's voice was sweet and melodic.  Her curly 
blonde hair lay against the pillow, a halo around her pale face.

The chart showed her vitals as normal.  Matt looked back at the glowing 
skin of his patient, the rosy lips, and sweet smile.  "Blood work couldn't be 
better,"  he noted, a trace of puzzlement in his tone.  He smiled at the girl, 
and automatically checked her eyes, throat and ears.  "If I didn't know 
better, I'd say you were perfectly healthy.  You keep this up, and we'll 
have you out of here in no time."

Nurse Stacey beamed,  "It's just too good to be true.  It's just a miracle."  
She pulled the sheet back across the little girl, tucking her in with a motherly 
gesture.

A faint frown passed over Matt's face.  He flashed to a vision of fishing in 
a river, Ben Healy at his side.  "You, uh, remember anything about last night, 
Marie?"

 "Yes, sir, I remember coming to the hospital and all the bright lights.  I was 
scared.  But then, I wasn't scared, 'cause there were angels around me, 
floating above your head.  They were so pretty.  So was the lady in blue, 
she was the prettiest lady I've ever seen.  But her face was so sad."

Matt blinked, a cautious smile lightening his face.

***************************

Father Patrick knelt on the floor, scrubbing viciously at the bloodstained 
rug.  He sloshed water out of the bucket with his frantic efforts.  

"Whoa, there, Father, you're gonna scrub right through the carpet at that 
rate."

"Lucas!"  Patrick looked around furtively.  "I can't get it up, no matter 
how I try."

"Call Stanley Steemer.  Just don't call the station, jabbering like a madman.  
Doesn't look good."

"It's a sign, don't you see?"  Patrick stood, the scrub brush in his hand 
dripping cleaning water over his shoes and garb.  "It has to be."  He 
stepped closer to Lucas.  "I was praying for guidance.  God answered."  
He grabbed Lucas' shoulders, the brush still in his hands.  "God 
answered!"  he nearly shouted in the sheriff's face, his own red with 
excitement.

Lucas pushed him away, brushing at the traces of water on his duster.  
"Is that so?"

Father Patrick deflated under Lucas' cool gaze.  His face began to twist.  
"I don't know,"  he admitted.  "I don't know what to think.  Once upon a 
time, but not now."

Lucas leaned in to him, enunciating each word carefully,  "You think what 
I tell you to, just like always.  You're stellar rise in the diocese could fall 
to the ground,"  he snapped his fingers, "just like that.  Follow your 
ambitious heart, Father."  A savage smile spread over his face.

Patrick shuddered.  He stepped away, stumbling against the bucket, 
spilling more water.

"Don't you worry, Father Patrick.  You keep things quiet, and everything 
will be just fine."

Patrick gave a little, unamused laugh.  "Paul Sault, one of the altar boys, 
he's already told everyone he knows."

Lucas' eyes narrowed.  He spun, and strode away, the duster lifting 
behind him with the movement.  Patrick watched him leave with relief.

******************************

Ben marveled at the image in front of him.  He traced the Madonna's face 
with his finger a few millimeters above the glass, afraid to touch it.  

"What are you up to?"  Lucas startled Ben with the question.

Ben turned, moving away.  "I thought you should see this."  

Lucas stepped up to the window, his face lining up with the Virgin's.  He 
looked down to the pavement below.  

"It's the same window that woman, Angela, jumped out of,"  Ben reminded 
his boss, his voice cautious,  "and Judith Temple, too."

Lucas turned his back on the image.  His voice edged in steel, he ordered,  
"Have the window replaced."

"I don't know, Lucas, I mean, that's the Virgin Mary there.  Are you sure 
that we should be messin' with it?  Shouldn't we call a priest, or somethin', 
before we go ahead and get rid of it?"

"It's a hazard."

"Aw, Lucas..."  Ben hunched a shoulder, clearly uncomfortable.

Lucas turned back to the likeness, his lips twisted in contempt, but his 
look changed, his face becoming still.  A camera crew was setting up on 
the sidewalk, a reporter pointing up to the window.  "Get it done yesterday, 
Ben.  Got it?"

Ben swallowed.  "Yeah, sure, Lucas."

Lucas left Ben alone in the room.  He moved down the hall, passing his 
fellow citizens.  They nodded and smiled.  The more courageous or 
oblivious greeted him directly.  Slowly, a sense of unease crept up his 
spine.  He paused, feeling uncharacteristically nervous.  He looked into 
the room beside him, spotting a small blue teddy bear, but no occupant.  
The lights on the floor flickered.

Under his breath, he muttered,  "It can't be Merlyn, and it ain't Judith."  

He spun, feeling a shadow of a thought that he couldn't catch.  He moved 
on, towards the exit.  The patients and staff in the hall avoided his gaze.  
His mouth tightened.  

Matt Crower came off the elevator.  "Is this a social visit, or did you come 
to see our little slice of heaven?  I hear a few of the interns are planning on 
making a shrine."  He smiled, widely.

"And I thought education was supposed to wipe out superstition.  Just a 
freak of nature, nothin' special."

"You're going to have a hard time selling that one."  If anything, that damn 
Yankee's smile was wider.

Lucas leaned in close to the other man.  "Be careful what you believe in."

Matt responded in a low and solemn tone,  "I believe in your destruction."

Lucas stepped onto the elevator, catching a glimpse of the hate and distrust 
in Crower's eyes before the doors shut.  He smiled, the world settling back 
into familiar patterns.

*****************************

An orderly wheeled Marie down the corridor.  Matt stopped her at the 
door to her room.  "How are you doing, sweetheart?"  The orderly handed 
Matt the results of her most recent tests.

The child smiled up at him.  "I'm feeling much better.  Thank you so much 
for the teddy bear.  I love him to pieces."

"That's what you're supposed to do with teddy bears."  Matt frowned as 
he perused her chart.  He looked up, the frown disappearing, but a shadow 
stayed in his eyes.  "You're right as rain, Marie.  I can sign you out anytime."

"Oh, no, Dr. Crower, I can't go yet."  

Matt laughed softly,  "Why not?"

A gurney passed by, the young boy on it in obvious pain.  Marie reached 
out her hand and touched the boy's fingertips.  He clasped her hand, staring 
at her.  Slowly, he rose to a sitting position, no outward evidence of pain to 
be had.  He smiled at Marie.  She looked at Matt, calm and serene.  "You 
see, I can't leave yet."

************************************

"I'm flattered you think of me as a miracle, Larry.  I told you I'd help you 
out."  Lucas stood in the kitchen of A Safe Haven.  The gleaming surfaces 
of the counters were covered by pots, pans and dishes.

Larry wiped his hands on his apron.  "But I turned you down.  Can't 
remember the last time you gave anything out of the generosity of your 
heart, Lucas."

"I'm hurt, Larry."  Lucas made a gesture as if he'd been struck in the 
chest.

Larry walked over to the door to the cafeteria and swung it open.  
Homeless men and women sat at the tables eating lunch.  "You've 
always helped them come through our doors, Lucas, not go out them."  
He  looked back at the sheriff.  "Miracles aren't your business.  But that 
Lady over at the hospital, she's an old hand at them.  I know the Madonna 
is responsible for our salvation.  I know it deep in my heart, and that's what 
I told the reporter a few minutes ago."

"Then you're going to look like a fool, when all is said and done."  
Lucas strode into the cafeteria, smiling and nodding to its occupants.

**************************

Lucas climbed the steps to the church.  A tall man with glasses, his 
hands stuffed in the pockets of his tan jacket, was descending at the 
same time.  He spotted Lucas.  

"Sheriff.  I, uh, was going to come by and, uh, let you know.  I won't 
be needing that loan, after all."  He looked up at the house of worship 
behind him.  "I prayed, and I'm trusting in the Virgin to see me through."

Lucas paused, his manner assured and friendly.  "You have to do what's 
best for you, Harold.  If you think that's what's best, well, I certainly 
understand.  Nothing like a few extra visits to church to put a new spin on 
things."  Lucas moved up a couple steps, and turned, adding,  "You been 
to confession, lately?"

Harold looked away, unable to meet his eyes.  Lucas bounded up the 
final steps and entered the sanctuary.  A few people stood by the crucifix.  
He cleared his throat, and with a gesture of his head sent them all on their 
way.  The church was empty and silent.  Lucas strode up the main aisle to 
the altar.  He stood in front of it, and watched the blood well up in the 
wound in the figure's side.  It traveled its usual path to the stain on the rug.  

Lucas stood proudly, his bearing straight, lordly.  "You aren't any happier 
about this than I am.  Only, nobody out there is going to figure that out, 
because you can never be clear and simple.  For once, that's not going to 
work to my advantage."

The church remained cold and silent, the trickle of blood making the only 
sound, a soft plop, as it hit the carpet.  Lucas' mouth quirked up on one 
side.

The clatter of footsteps arose behind him.  Father Patrick rushed up the 
center of the church.  "I think it's best that you leave," he proclaimed, his 
voice stiff.  He was dressed in his vestments, the trappings of the church 
embracing his thin form.

Lucas turned to face the man.  "I thought everyone was welcome in a 
church, Father."  

"Not those that refuse to repent their sins."  Patrick lifted his arm, pointing 
to the door in a dramatic gesture.  

"Is that what you've done?"  Lucas eyed the priest with amusement.  

"Yes.  I've taken a hard look at myself.  I've seen my failings, and I'm 
determined to remain strong in my faith.  I've found my calling, again."  
His eyes burned with the zeal of the reformed.

Lucas shrugged.  He gestured to the bleeding icon.  "I'll believe that, 
when He sees it."

************************

 "You gotta admit, it's the prettiest blue,"  Boone protested, as he stood 
beside the little garden.  All the blooms had finished blossoming each 
was turning a celestial blue. 

Caleb fingered the last red petal on the flower closest to him.  "But it's all 
the same blue.  I was gonna put a big bunch on my momma's grave."  He 
kicked at the dirt with his toe.  "Now, it'll be boring, all the same."  He 
scowled.

"I guess."  Boone looked over at his friend with concern.  "You're not 
lookin' so good, Caleb."

Caleb's freckles stood out starkly on his pale face.  "I ain't feelin' so good,"  
he admitted.

**************************

"Lucas,"  Ben spoke into the phone,  "I think you'd better get over to 
the hospital right away."  He hung up and walked away from the 
second floor nurse's station.  

A teenage boy dropped the crutches he had been dependent on.   
The youth stripped off the brace on his leg, laughing as he took 
several steps unassisted.  Ben nodded to him as he passed, hoping his 
smile didn't look as weird as it felt.  

He pushed past the people gathered around the infamous Room 105.  
"Now, y'all heard what I told you.  This room is off limits.  By order of 
the sheriff.  Y'all go on your way."  He shut the door in their faces.

************************************

"It seems to be just fine, now,"  Matt declared with a smile.  He signed 
the chart.  "I think you can head on home."  

The little boy smiled back.  Matt handed the chart to the waiting nurse, 
and strode out the door. He spotted a familiar blonde head.  "Hey, little 
girl, I want to have a word with you."

Marie turned to him, her face glowing with a serene confidence.  For a 
bemused moment, Matt stared at her, trying to find words.  "That's the 
fifth child I've signed out in the last hour.  You go into their rooms to say 
goodbye, and they come out cured of whatever ails them.  I don't 
understand it."

"Sometimes, you just have to accept."

"I don't think it's in my nature."  He squatted down next to her.   "But 
if there was ever a time to believe in miracles, I think it would be now."

Rita marched up, her expression stern and frustrated.  "Dr. Crower, 
could you make a statement to the reporters, at least?  They're pestering 
me so much with all their questions, I can't get my job done.  It was bad 
enough when they were just wanting to take pictures of the Blessed 
Virgin, but somehow they heard about Marie's recovery, and the other 
children, as well.  They want to know all about it, and they won't leave 
me alone."  

Matt turned to the little girl, smiling.  "So, what do you say, Marie?  Do 
you want to be on the evening news?  You can tell those reporters 
your story."

Marie's eyes widened.  She whispered,  "Oh, no Doctor.  I'd be too 
scared."  Her small hand crept into his.  "Can you tell them that the 
Blue Lady wants me to keep touching the other children."

A faint frown passed over Mat's brow.  "You mean the Lady you saw 
in your dream?"

Marie shook her head, curls flying.  "It wasn't a dream.  She was real."

Matt's eyes took on a faraway look.  "I wish I could believe that.  I 
really do.  Why is it harder to believe in good, then in evil?"

Marie stared at him, her blue eyes deep with silence.  Rita cleared her 
throat.  Matt stood,  saying,  "I'll be right there, Rita.  I'll make some 
sort of statement to get them off your back.  Marie, I want you to go 
lay down and rest."  Matt gave her a gentle push in the direction of 
her room.  Reluctantly, Marie complied.

Matt headed for the elevator with Rita.  The doors opened, with Lucas 
the only occupant of the car.  Rita's eyes fell to the ground.  Matt missed 
her uncomfortable shift in stance, he was too busy staring at the sheriff, 
his own words haunting him.  "Why is it harder to believe in good than in 
evil?"

*******************************

The door to Room 105 slammed shut.  "What the hell is that still doing 
up?"  Lucas demanded.  

The late afternoon light gave a glow to the outline of the Madonna, and 
created shadows that fell on Ben's face.  He grimaced.  "I called Peerson's 
to do it.  Mike and his boys put it in.  And just as soon as it was up, we 
heard this tinkling sound, and the crack came back."  He turned back to 
the window.  "It was kinda interestin' to watch."  He lifted his eyebrows, 
and wryly added,  "I think those reporters thought so, too.  They got the 
whole thing live."

Lucas seemed to pull back into himself.  "Is that so?"

"She's been busy, our Lady, here.  She's been healing the kids.  Sick 
kids getting better right in front of everybody's eyes.  Kinda hard to 
keep that quiet, doncha think, Lucas?"

Lucas' cold, shark-like eyes stared at the window.  He made no answer.

Ben watched his boss, a shiver going down his spine.  "They're right about 
this room, you know.  No matter where I stand, there's a cold draft on the 
back of my neck."

Finally, Lucas turned his gaze to Ben.  "Get out."

Ben didn't need to be told twice.  The door closed and the sound 
reverberated in the empty room.  Lucas turned a circle, taking in every 
nook and corner.  "So?"  he addressed the room.  "Where the hell are 
you, when I need you?  Do you expect me to do this alone?"  

In the corner farthest from the window, a faint shimmer emerged.  A 
half-light, tall enough to be a woman.  Lucas waited, but the shimmer 
didn't strengthen.  "What?  You have a problem with this room?  Frankly, 
this place holds a lot of fond memories for me."

The shimmer dissolved.  

 "That woman never could take a joke."

*****************************

Lucas stepped out into chaos.  There were people everywhere, many of 
them had flowers, bibles, or candles.  The central hub was crowded with 
the families of newly-well children.  Doctors and nurses tried to control 
the situation, but too many people simply weren't listening.  Several were 
chanting softly.  The words of the Hail Mary floated to Lucas' ears.

"All right, everyone,"  Lucas loudly exclaimed.  The corridor fell silent.  
"That's better.  Now, how are the good doctors and nurses supposed to 
do their jobs with this all going on?  Everyone here to take a look at our 
window, you stand on this side.  Now that we've determined the safety 
of the situation, we can allow viewing.  Only one person in the room at 
a time.  Deputy Healy will handle it.  It's a lovely sight.  I hope y'all enjoy it.  
Nature has blessed Trinity once again."  He smiled congenially, shaking 
hands as he moved forward, towards the elevator.

He spotted Crower in the front lobby as he got off the elevator.  Their 
eyes met.  Crower held Buck's gaze with an assurance reminiscent of the 
time before the doctor had aimed a gun at him.  Lucas sharply inhaled.  
Then he smirked and shrugged, stepping away.

Caleb was wheeled through on a gurney, the attendants shouting to clear 
the way.  Matt reached Caleb's side first.  He was ghastly pale, his 
breathing shallow and unsteady.  Matt tried to get a response from him, 
but the boy was only semi-conscious.

"What the hell is wrong with him?"

Crower barely spared the sheriff a glance.  "Get out of here, so I can 
figure that out.  He doesn't need you in the way, right now."

"Help him.  Do something."  There was a note of panic in Lucas' voice that 
Matt had never heard before.  Lucas was holding Caleb's hand, staring into 
his face, as if he was trying to heal him with a look, and couldn't do it.

To his own surprise, Matt heard himself say,  "You can only stay if you keep 
out of the way."

Lucas nodded.  Caleb had faced death before, and Lucas had been a part 
of every moment.  This time, he couldn't reach Caleb.  He squeezed his 
son's hand harder, never feeling more powerless than at that moment. 

***********************************

Matt straightened up, having finished his examination of Caleb.   Worry 
deepened every line on his face.  His young charge lay near death.  Matt 
turned to Caleb's biological father, standing next to the doorway.  "I have 
no idea why Caleb's ill.  I've ordered tests, we'll see what they can tell us.  
Right now, it's a matter of waiting."  Lucas turned to leave.  "There's 
more to being a father,"  Matt blurted,  "than giving rides in a car, and handing 
out questionable advice."

"You work on healing Caleb your way, Harvard, and I'll work on it my 
way."

********************************

The wind was bitterly cold in the cemetery, whipping dead leaves up off 
the ground, and feathering Lucas' hair back.  The grave of Judith Temple 
was cleared of debris.  Placed carefully in the shelter of the gravestone, 
a brilliant blue bouquet of many different flowers looked forlorn.

"Come to me here.  You made me a promise.  My son is sick.  Get me 
back my ring, like you said, so I can help him."  He waited, the muscles 
in his cheek tight with the humiliation of asking.

Glowing light, soft and pure in the onset of dusk, grew into the form of a 
woman.  Faint and indistinct, but unmistakably, Judith.  "It will take time to 
get back the ring,"  the words were light upon the wind; he had to strain to 
hear them.

"Caleb doesn't have time," he spat out.  "I can't help him.  I tried."  A pause a
s black as night.  "Go to him.  Help him.  Please."

"I will give what I can, I've sacrificed so much all ready."  Her light 
brightened.  "You must stay away.  Evil is killing Caleb, it will feed off you.  
Evil begets evil."

"You keep that in mind, when you're trying to turn him your way,"  Lucas 
shot back.

Judith's light vanished.  Lucas stared at her grave.  "I never needed you 
before.  Do you understand me?  Never!"  he whispered.

******************************

At the foot of Caleb's bed, his sister huddled on the floor.  "Caleb," she 
whispered, rocking,  "I want to help.  I do."  Her skin was sallow, her hair 
lank, the ring glowing a sickly green. 

"Leave.  You cannot help your brother."

Merly started.  She rose, following the call of the words out of the room 
and down to the morgue.  Her own body lay on a slab.

"You are as powerless now as you were before your death."  Her mother's 
voice issued from her own dead lips.

"Go back where you came from!"  Merly cried.  "I hate you.  If it wasn't 
for you, I could have destroyed Lucas.  I could have saved Caleb."

"You would have made Caleb truly Buck, and yourself, something worse."  
The dead Merly glowed, her feature's becoming Judith's.  A shimmering 
Judith sat up, facing her daughter.

"I'm already as bad as I can be!  I think things about people that make me 
sick.  I feel hate crawling into my mind.  This ring is poisoning me.  Caleb 
is my only hope."

"Caleb can't help you.  He has his own battle."

"I can turn him to the light, don't you see?  That will save my soul.  It has 
to."

Judith looked with pity on her child.  "Caleb must learn to accept himself 
as he is, only then can he survive what lives within him."

"You want him to become a Buck!"  Merly rushed at her mother, her hands 
closing around Judith's neck, only to have the image melt away.

"You can only understand when you have made your own journey."  Merly 
spun at the sound of the voice behind her, but there was no one, and she 
was alone with the dead.

**************************************

 "These tests results don't tell me anything."  Matt slammed the file on 
his desk.  Loris reached for him, but he shook her off.  "A ward full of 
children recovering left and right, and our son is dying.  Our son, Loris, 
I don't care what anyone else says."

"He most certainly is."  Loris watched her husband with anxious eyes, 
wondering which of her menfolk she should be more worried about.  
Matt looked like he could come apart at the seams.

"You're going to think I'm crazy, but there is something I have to try."  
Matt strode out of his office.  He raced up the stairs, not bothering with 
the elevator.  Loris followed behind, confused.  He stopped at a room in 
the children's ward.  It wasn't Caleb's, as Loris had expected.

"Marie?"  Matt entered.  

The girl turned from the window, the blue teddy bear clutched in her 
arms.  "Yes, Dr. Crower?"

"There's a boy named Caleb I want you to touch.  I want you to heal him, 
the way you've healed the others."

"I can't help you, Dr. Crower.  Caleb's own evil makes him sick."

"I don't believe that."  Marie stared at him in silence.  Matt shook his 
head in denial.  "Somehow, Caleb will get better.  I won't believe anything 
else."  He looked at Loris.  She held out her hand.  Together, they went 
into the corridor.  

Floyd bumped into them, a rosary in his hand.  "Dr. Crower?  I'd like to 
see the miracle girl.  I thought she could bless me."

Matt saw several people milling in the corridor, apparently looking for 
Marie's room.  He recognized Cecil Perkins, and Poppy with her baby, 
among others.  They all had something with them to have blessed, or to 
offer the Madonna.

"Floyd, for God's sake, act like a deputy, and get these people out of 
here.  We have a hospital to run."  

Reluctantly, Floyd herded the group towards the other corridor, where the 
line for the viewing of the window had grown.  Matt and Loris crossed into 
Caleb's room, to stand over his bedside.  They didn't see the presence of 
Judith by his side, her phantom hand holding Caleb's, sharing their vigil.

******************************

Lucas leaned back in his chair.  He stared at the bright red apple gleaming 
in his hand.  The skin had a sheen from a combination of nature's blessing 
and careful buffing.  Ben entered, a report in his hand.  He waited for his 
boss to acknowledge him, but the sheriff was too busy admiring fruit to 
bother with paperwork.  The silence became too much for Ben; he cleared
his throat.  

"Why aren't you at the hospital with everyone else, paying homage to our 
little blue visitor?"  Lucas asked, the apple continuing to command his 
attention.

"I guess, 'cause something just doesn't feel right to me.  I'll stay here 
with you."  Ben laid the papers on Buck's desk, looking away from Lucas.  
"Because there's nowhere else for me to be."

"It's a real beauty, this apple.  Red and sweet.  Makes the mouth water, 
doesn't it?  The most perfect apple you have ever seen."  Lucas tossed the 
apple Ben's way.  Ben fumbled for it, and just barely caught it.  Standing, 
Lucas smiled.  "Go ahead, eat it."

Ben stared at Lucas, and then at the apple.  It was beautiful and perfect, 
just as Lucas said.  Ben reached over, grabbing Buck's letter opener off 
the top of the desk.  He sliced the apple in half.  The parts fell open, 
exposing brown mush at the center.  

Lucas moved around the desk, and patted Ben on the shoulder. "Hot 
damn, Ben, you've been learning, after all,"  he praised.

Ben carefully wiped the letter opener clean with his handkerchief.  His 
voice flat, he noted,  "If I was more like Floyd, life would be a lot easier." 

"Floyd would have a mouth full of rotten apple, right now."

Ben put the letter opener back.  "But he'd be happy."

Lucas chuckled. "Happiness is highly overrated."

Ben kept staring at the apple.  He didn't return the laugh.  "How would 
you know?"

Buck's eyes flickered as the shaft hit home.  He left without responding.

******************************

Lucas navigated through the crowd on the hospital steps.  Somehow, 
despite the coming of night, the staff had managed to send the bystanders 
from the lobby outside.  Two TV crews were set up on the sidewalk now,
getting on-the-street interviews.  Lucas waved a reporter away.  

"Sheriff Buck!"  Father Patrick grabbed his arm.  

Lucas turned.  He shook the younger man's hand off his sleeve.  "I've 
duties to perform, Father."

"What do you think about the miracles, Sheriff?"  there was an unmistakable 
challenge in Patrick's voice.

The bright light of a camera swung his way.  "Trinity is blessed, always 
has been,"  Lucas replied with ease.  "My department is conducting a 
thorough investigation as to the authenticity of theses 'miracles'.  We'll 
have a statement to the public as soon as we can confirm these rumors."

"They aren't rumors.  Everyone's seen the shots of the garden on the 
evening news, and the interview over at A Safe Haven, not to mention 
the children here.  Lisa Morris was terminal until this morning."

"The body's ability to heal itself is a wonderful thing."  Lucas moved up 
a step.  

"And the girl, Marie Celare?  How do you explain her ability to heal with 
a single touch?"  Patrick demanded.

Lucas' eyes grew cold, his nostrils flared.  He turned his head in the 
direction of the window.  In the darkness of the room above him, Marie 
looked down through the Madonna's image.

********************************

There was murder in Lucas' face as he burst through the door to 105.  
The room was empty.  Lucas spun about, pushing past the onlookers in 
the hallway.  They melted away, following the silent signals to get out of 
the line of fire.  Poppy clutched her baby closer to her, and scooted into 
a room.  

Lucas stalked through the halls.  As he passed Caleb's room, his 
expression became more dangerous.  He found the room he remembered, 
slamming the door behind him.  Using his hands.  Even now, his sense of 
the girl lying in the bed was more physical than supernatural.  Her evil, a 
brush against his mind, and not the surging force it should have been.  

Marie turned her head and smiled at him.  "It is my time."

"You think I'm going to roll over and let you win?"  Lucas moved 
forward until he stood over her bed.

"You are weak.  Your time has passed.  A new order comes to Trinity."

He shook his head.  "I'm not out of the picture, yet."

"I'm older than you, stronger.  You've lost access to your power.  What 
will you do when Caleb is no longer here to be your successor?  When 
your people have turned to me?"  She spoke with quiet conviction.  "As 
so many have, all ready."

For a long moment he studied her.  Lucas smiled a wolfish smile.  "There 
is more than one way to do battle," he whispered.  "Your vessel is too 
fragile."  With an explosion of motion, he lifted clasped hands above his 
head, and drove them into her throat with all his physical force.

Briefly, she turned a dark gray, before collapsing, her throat crushed.

****************************

The window in Room 105 shattered inward, glass scattering all over 
the room.  The spectators below dove for cover, more from fear, than 
the reality of falling shards.

****************************

As he turned to leave, Lucas heard Marie's voice,  "My time will come."

"Not today."

He strolled out into the hall, and spied Crower coming out of Caleb's 
room.  "Your patient's dead."

Matt paused in shock, and then raced past Buck into Marie's room.  
Her body seemed small and delicate in the large hospital bed.  And 
thoroughly lifeless.

Matt ran after the sheriff, grabbed him by the shoulder, and spun Lucas 
around to face him.  "You're not going anywhere.  You've committed 
murder, and you are going to be held accountable, so help me, God."  
He turned to the startled staff members at the nurse's station.  "Rita, 
get Ben Healy on the phone.  Tell him there's an arrest to be made."

"Doctor?"  Rita stared at Lucas in horror.

"Do it, nurse,"  Matt commanded.

***********************************

 "What the hell is this all about?"  Ben asked from the doorway of 
Matt's office.  Lucas leaned back in the doctor's chair, and took a 
bite out of a ripe apple.  Ben had to wait until Buck finished chewing 
before he got his answer.

"Crower wants me arrested for murder."

Matt came up behind Ben.  "He murdered one of my patients.  I'm a 
witness.  Her body is in Room 136.  Go take a look."  Matt's breath 
was rapid.   He watched Lucas with all the hunger of a drunk eyeing a 
bottle of whiskey.

Crower guarded the door as he waited for the deputy to return.  Lucas 
continued to eat his apple with good-natured aplomb.

Ben's face was ashen when he came back.  "Lucas, I'm going to have 
to...arrest you."

"It sure looks like it."  Lucas agreed, casually.

"I, uh, I'll take you into custody."  Ben looked miserable.

"Don't bother reading me my rights, Ben, I know them."  Lucas threw 
the apple core into the trash.

"By the book, Deputy.  Don't screw this up,"  Matt insisted.  

Lucas rose.  Ben reached for his cuffs, and stopped, thinking better of it.  
Lucas smiled.  Ben waved him forward.

Lucas paused abreast of Crower.  "Why don't you check on Caleb,"  
he recommended.  Together, Lucas and Ben walked out into the night, 
side by side.

*********************************

Matt looked down at the unconscious boy.  Caleb's color was much better, 
his breathing, the steady rhythm of sleep.  Matt closed his eyes in silent 
gratitude.

*********************************

Ben followed Lucas into the Sheriff's Department.  "I guess it'll be OK 
if you stay in your office.  You give me your word, you won't try to 
leave?"  He worried the hat in his hands.  "I just can't see puttin' ya in a 
cell, Lucas, but I can't have you escaping, now."  

"Lighten up."  Lucas punched Ben's shoulder.  He ambled over to his 
office.

"Your promise, Lucas."  

"I won't leave, Ben.  You've got my word on that."  Chuckling, Lucas 
disappeared into his office.

Ben sat down heavily in his chair.  The sweat stood out on his brow. 

**************************************

Late morning sunshine streamed through the window in Caleb's hospital 
room, falling across the bed, as Loris tugged at the curtain.  Caleb's eyes 
blinked open.  He pulled himself up on his elbows, and looked around 
the room.  "What am I doin' in the hospital?"  he asked.  

Loris turned with a cry of joy and relief.  Matt awoke in the chair by 
the bed.  He shook out the sleep, leaned over and hugged Caleb hard.  
He pulled back to lift his stethoscope to Caleb's chest.  "You were sick, 
but you're going to be much better now."

Caleb furrowed his brow.  "I kinda remember feelin' poorly."  A smile 
lightened his face.  "My mamma was there, lookin' out for me."

Matt met Loris' eyes.  "Mamma?" she mouthed back, her face split 
with a huge smile.

"And my Daddy, too, he was helping me out."


Matt frowned.  Gently, he said,  "Lucas wasn't here while you were 
sick."

Caleb smiled.  He knew what he knew.

********************************

 "You did what, Ben!"  Floyd exclaimed.

"I arrested Lucas for murder.  I didn't have no choice."  Ben poured 
himself a cup of coffee.  

Floyd pulled his jaw back up.  "You can't do that, can you?"

Ben gave a little snort, and passed his free hand through his hair.  "I 
did."

The front door opened.  Matt Crower entered with a file in his hand.  
He looked warily at Ben.  "It's the autopsy report.  I double checked 
the results, myself."  He handed it to Ben.  "I could use a cup of that 
coffee.  A good shot of whiskey wouldn't be too bad, either, but I'll 
pass."  He looked Ben straight in the eyes.  "I thought we had him this 
time, I really thought we did.  But Lucas didn't murder Marie Celare.  
She was all ready dead when he crushed her throat."

"What?"  Ben put down his coffee on his desk, spilling some.  He didn't 
notice.

From the hall to his office, Lucas spoke,  "It's about time you figured that 
out, Harvard.  One has to question your abilities as a doctor."  He smiled, 
carelessly.

"Well, how did she die then?"  Ben paged through the report.  "Cardiac 
arrest?"

Lucas winked at Crower.  "I wouldn't recommend publishing the time of 
death."  Gleefully, he added,  "Unless you want to try to explain it, Doc?"

Matt looked a little sick.  Ben found the information in the report.  "How 
the hell!"  He looked back up at Matt.

Matt confirmed it with a nod,  "Marie's internal organs show degeneration 
of more than twenty-four hours.  It isn't a typo.  It's real."

"She was dead for a whole day without you knowin' it?" 

"She was walking, talking, and healing people while she was dead for 
a whole day."

Matt and Ben stared at each other.

"I don't know, Harvard, I'm not sure I'd want to go see a doctor who 
can't tell when his patient's dead."  Lucas was enjoying himself.  He 
leaned over and flipped on the little black and white TV.  The noon report 
had begun.  Cecil Perkins stood in front of A Safe Haven.  In answer to 
the reporter, he was taking credit for the food in the pantry.  He had just 
wanted to remain anonymous, he claimed.

"Looks like all the miracles just weren't,"  Lucas commented.  "Things 
just aren't what they seem, sometimes."

Floyd scratched his head, not following any of it.  "I don't get it.  What 
happened?" 

Lucas grinned.  "Precisely."

Matt stepped forward, close to the sheriff.  In a low voice he asked,  
"Marie was making Caleb sick, wasn't she?"

"Not bad, Harvard.  You keep on eye on those 'healed' kids, just to be 
sure."  

Matt started.  "I better get back to the hospital."  He paused at the door.  
"I suppose I should tell you, Caleb's better.  He's going to be fine."  Matt 
exited.

Ben looked green around the gills.  Lucas clapped him on the shoulder.  
"Relax. Crower was walking around like he'd won the lottery.  I couldn't 
resist.  Do you really think I would have let you arrest me, if I didn't want 
you to, Deputy?"  Lucas said.    

"Guess not."  

Lucas whistled his way back to his office.

******************************

 "Looks like I didn't need your help, after all, so don't think you've gained 
some sort of edge, you got me?"  Lucas insisted to the cold headstone 
marking Judith Temple's grave.  

Her light formed beside him.  He saw her gentle smile and sneered,  "Even 
without the ring, I'm still a Buck.  And so's my son."

He turned on his heel and stalked off.  His duster enveloped him in 
blackness, despite the sunshine.  

The large bouquet on her grave shone with all the colors of the rainbow.


Fade Out.


DISCLAIMER:  Any story/episode appearing that states it is part of Virtual 
AG-Season Three is based upon the Television show, "American Gothic", 
which is the property of Shaun Cassidy, Renaissance Productions,and CBS 
(apparently).  The characters added to support this concept, and the storylines, 
are the property of the writers acknowledged as such.  PLEASE, DON'T SUE 
US!!